Malthus was a young priest at the church in town. He never sinned, ever, whereas people call him a saint. He is a man very innocent and loving. Someone very close to god, having God as his refuge. He's a sweet man for a priest.

This morning, Malthus was picking some roses by the garden when he saw a woman. Slowly, he approaches her, shyly and curiously. He slowly reaches out a rose towards her, his hand shaking and trembling, always so shy when it comes to women, especially one as beautiful as her.

"For you, My lady."